Before Heaven
by Katriona
Summary: Prue was about to enter the afterlife when Piper cast the spell, yanking her out. However, instead of being sent back to earth, she was thrown into a world of lost souls, and now she can't get out.
1. Crash Landing

Before Heaven  
  
Summary: Prue was about to enter the afterlife when Piper cast the spell, yanking her out. However, instead of being sent back to earth, she was thrown into a world of lost souls, and now she can't get out.  
  
A/N: I've been starting a lot of new fics lately, haven't I? Same rule still applies. The fics you think are best are the ones that'll get finished the quickest, so if you like a fic it's important to review. That, and it gives me a happy. :)  
  
Disclaimer: I don't own Charmed. I still don't see why this bit of stating the blaringly obvious is really necessary, but I think my ass is officially covered now. No suing of the Cate, please.  
  
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Prue woke up, and quickly pulled herself into a sitting position. She looked around, trying to figure out where she was. Nothing seemed familiar. Nothing was around her. As far as she could see in all directions, there was only the flat, grey, solid rock that she'd found herself lying on. It stretched out in a smooth, glassy plane that reminded her of the ocean, sans the waves. This was certainly not like the last place she'd come from.  
  
She sighed, remembering that place. It had been beautiful, peaceful, utopic. It had been heaven. She'd been in heaven. She could still feel the warm glow of her skin, still see her mother and grandmother coming to greet her. And she could still hear the faint sound of a spell said by her sister, Piper, trying to reserruct her. She could still feel the pain of being pulled out of that paradise, only to be cast into this place, this empty, desolate place.  
  
A few tears rolled down her face at the memory. She'd been so happy, and now she just felt afraid. She lay back down, her face pressed against the cold stone, and curled up, starting to cry.  
  
She didn't know how long she'd been lying there when she heard footsteps. Prue stayed completely still, hardly daring to breathe, as she felt someone kneeling down behind her.  
  
"Well," came a man's voice, "What do we have here?"  
  
Prue turned her head slowly, and found herself looking into the deep, dark eyes of a man about her age. "Where am I?" she asked weakly.  
  
"Well, I can tell you where you're not," he deflected. "You're not in Hell. That's where I thought I was, when I first got here, but I was wrong. This isn't Hell. But that's all I can tell you for now."  
  
"Why?" she asked, pulling herself up. "Why can't you tell me more?"  
  
"I don't know more, babe," he answered simply, helping her to her feet.  
  
Prue looked him over, irritated at being called 'babe'. He didn't seem to notice. He stood, watching her, his tan skin appearing even darker under the inky-black sky. He had long, fine black hair, which was pulled back into a ponytail at the nape of his neck. His muscular arms were folded neatly across his chest. Overall, he reminded Prue of a bouncer at P3, her sister's nightclub. She shook her head, clearing it of the unexpected memory and the pang that went with it, and forced herself back to the present. "So who are you? And where the hell did you come from? I looked around before and I didn't see anything."  
  
"You must not have looked very far," he replied. "If you keep walking around here, eventually you'll come to what I guess could be described as a city. And as for your other question, my name is Darius. And yours?"  
  
"Prue," she said.  
  
There was a short, awkward pause.  
  
"Okay, then," Darius said, "We should probably start off. It's never good to hang around one place for too long."  
  
Prue was about to ask why when a burst of fire shot up from the ground. Darius pulled her back just before it hit her. "What the hell was that?" she asked, her heart racing.  
  
"That," he said, "Is why we need to move, now."  
  
Prue nodded, and allowed him to take her hand and lead her off. She wasn't sure which direction they were going in, as by now everything just seemed to blur together. She wasn't even sure she could trust him; in fact, she highly doubted it. However, the urge to avoid being burnt alive won out, and she followed him.  
  
After a while, they came to the city Darius had mentioned, although it didn't look anything like San Francisco. This place reminded Prue of the beautiful cities she'd read about in her history books, only this one had lost it's beauty. The buildings, though majestic, were gloomy and dark. The streets were cracked and uneven cobblestone. There wasn't a streetlight or even a candle in place anywhere; the only source of light was the few stars and the moon above.  
  
"This must be amazing during the day," Prue ventured, but Darius shook his head sadly.  
  
"There is no day. Our world stays this way, hour after hour, until you haven't a clue how many weeks or months or years have passed. I'm not even sure any time at all passes here."  
  
Prue looked up at him, her eyes wide. "But then how did we get here? And how do we get out?"  
  
He shrugged, looking away. "This place is a trap. People - souls - come here after they die, when they're too good for Hell but something's keeping them from Heaven. Nobody knows that it exists, and even if they did they wouldn't bother much with it. Once you're here, that's it. There is no escape, either you survive or you don't. That burst of flame that nearly killed you just now? It wasn't after your physical body. No, that's already gone. The one you have now is just a replica, a form you manifested when you entered this world. No, it wouldn't harm your body. What it wanted was your spirit."  
  
Prue shuddered, his words haunting her. She knew now what it all came down to. She was going to escape this place, or die trying. 


	2. Life Imitating Art

They walked through the rest of the city in silence, until they came to a large castle that looked like it had come right out of the Dark Ages. As the came closer, Prue was hit with the haunting realization that she'd seen this castle before.  
  
"Oh my God," she breathed.  
  
Darius snorted. "Not in this place, babe."  
  
Prue shook her head, grabbing his arm. "No, I mean, that castle. I've seen it before. In a painting."  
  
"A painting," Darius repeated. "What kind of painting?"  
  
"Oh, it's, well, you wouldn't believe me if I told you," Prue stammered.  
  
He looked over at her suspiciously. "Try me."  
  
"Fine," she replied, "But don't say I didn't warn you." She took a deep breath. "The painting was brought to an auction house I worked at. There was a curse on it, that a witch placed to trap a warlock. Only, at the time, I didn't know he was a warlock, so my sister and I ended up getting trapped in there with him while trying to save him. We only got out because my other sister cast a smart spell - Oh, did I mention we were all witches?"  
  
Darius shrugged, as naturally as if she'd just told him she was Canadian. "A smart spell, hmm? Wish I could do one of those."  
  
It was her turn to look at him suspiciously. "You know about witches and warlocks and all that? Wait, are you a-"  
  
"A warlock? No," he finished. "And I'm not a witch or a demon, either. I'm a mortal, or at least I was until I died. I know about magic and all that because, well, how else could I have gotten here, other than magic? Once you've been here a while, babe, you'll learn about all sorts of things you never thought possible."  
  
Prue said nothing, now thoroughly annoyed at his insistance on calling her 'babe'. From the smirk on his face, she got the distinct impression that he knew it bugged her.  
  
"As for the castle," he continued, ignoring her, "Where do you think the witch got the idea? She must have had a premonition, something about this place. Maybe a loved one ended up here? Whatever the case, it gave her the inspiration to trap that warlock of hers."  
  
By now, they'd reached the castle. Prue stopped, refusing to go any further. "Darius, we can't go in there. The whole place is booby-trapped, it took the warlock seventy years just to write one message on the window."  
  
"That was the witch's doing," Darius replied. "There's no danger here, Prue, in fact it's the safest place in this hellhole. I've lived in the castle practically since I got here, so if there was anything wrong with it, I'd know, okay?"  
  
Prue nodded slowly, still wary of him. "How do I know I can trust you?"  
  
He laughed. "What makes you think you can't? I'm no less a prisoner here than you are, Prue, I've just had more time to adjust."  
  
Prue noted that he'd stopped addressing her as 'babe', and relaxed a little. She had to admit, he had a point. Inhaling sharply, she followed him inside.  
  
The castle looked just like she remembered it, except that the torches stayed on the walls instead of hurling themselves across the room. Taking this as a good sign, she trailed after Darius as he hurried down the long corridor and up a winding flight of stairs. After what seemed like hours, they reached a large room, furnished with a bed, an armoire, a desk, and little else.  
  
"That," Darius said, "Is the master bedroom, where I sleep. I know it's a bit drab, but until an interior decorator lands in here, we're kinda screwed, you know?"  
  
"I'm assuming you didn't bring me here just to give me the five-cent tour and then toss me out on my ass," she started, getting right to the point. "Where do I sleep?"  
  
He smiled. "Direct. I like that. You can have the room across the hall. I think you'll find it more to your liking."  
  
She backed out into the hallway, and turned into the room he'd indicated. This one was a bit cheerier, with a few more candles, a large bed, a white armoir, a chaisse by the window, a small sofa in front of the fireplace, and a desk in the corner. There was also a white-framed, floor-length mirror on the wall. She gazed into it, not sure what she expected to see. She looked the same as she had the day she'd gone to save the doctor. Had that really only been this morning? It seemed like a lifetime ago.  
  
Darius cleared his throat from the doorway, then stepped forward, putting his arms around her. "It was a lifetime ago, babe," he said gently, guessing what she was thinking. "It's over now. You're starting over. I'd like you to start over with me."  
  
She leaned against him, surprised at how comfortable she felt in his arms. As he held her, she began to think that maybe this wouldn't be so bad, after all... 


	3. Darius' Request

When Prue woke up the next morning, she realized that she wasn't in her bedroom at the manor, or even in the room she'd been given at the castle. She was in Darius' bed, and he was lying next to her, asleep.  
  
She slipped out of the room, careful not to wake him, and scurried across the hall. She closed her door tightly, leaning against it, trying to absorb everything that had happened.  
  
She remembered being with Darius. She remembered very clearly the way he'd made her feel; it was comforting, but at the same time exciting, and wild, and there was something about him that was strangely cold, almost... evil.  
  
Almost. She convinced herself that almost evil and actually evil were not the same thing. Besides, she reasoned, if he'd wanted to kill her, he never would have rescued her the night before. She was certain he wouldn't hurt her. Drawing reassurance from this belief, she crossed the room and opened her armoir.  
  
She was surprised to find a full wardrobe waiting for her, all in her size. There were some practical items, like the jeans and shirts she was used to, but most of the clothes were made of fine materials fit for a queen. After looking over several outfits, she chose a simple white sundress. She dressed quickly, ran a brush through her silky dark hair, and went downstairs to explore the castle.  
  
By the time she reached the kitchen, Darius was already there, dressed in a black tee-shirt and the same color jeans. He smiled at her briefly. "There you are. I didn't hear you sneak out of bed this morning. Come here, have breakfast with me."  
  
She accepted his invitation silently, sitting down across the wooden table from him. "I didn't want to wake you," she explained as a butler set a plate of scrambled eggs and ham in front of her. "I've always been an early riser."  
  
He shrugged, taking a bite of toast. "I understand. You need some time to adjust, to move on from the life you had before."  
  
Prue nodded absently. In truth, she hadn't thought about it at all. She hadn't let herself. The subject of her own death was something she hadn't quite come to terms with yet. She knew that she'd left the world she used to belong to, and that this place was some kind of afterlife, but she still couldn't believe that she, Prue, was actually dead. Suddenly, she heard Piper's voice in her ear again, whispering the same spell that had landed her here. The memory made her shiver.  
  
"Are you all right?" Darius asked, noticing her vacant expression.  
  
Again, Prue nodded. "Yeah, it's just, um, a bit cold in here."  
  
Darius turned and motioned to one of the maids, a young, weary-looking girl who Prue thought couldn't be more than twenty years old.  
  
"Saira, get a fire going," Darius requested. The girl did as she was told, and when the flames started leaping up in the ancient fireplace, she scurried out of the room.  
  
"How did she end up here?" Prue wondered aloud.  
  
"She was hanged as a witch in colonial America," Darius informed her. "She was innocent, but then again, so were many of the accused back then."  
  
Prue quietly pushed the food around with her fork, thinking. Then, after a minute, her voice nearly inaudible, she asked, "How did you end up here?"  
  
Darius sighed. "You'll have to find out sooner or later, so I suppose I'll tell you now. I wasn't entirely truthful yesterday, when I said that I learned about magic from being here. See, when I was alive, I fell in love with a witch. An evil witch, as it turns out. I left her, and she put a curse on me. She killed me, and then the next thing I knew, I was here."  
  
Prue stared at him in wonderment. "You speak about it so matter-of-factly. How is that?"  
  
He shrugged. "It's been a long time, babe. That was a completely different lifetime, seperate from the one I'm in now."  
  
She sipped her tea, wondering if she could ever feel that way.  
  
"You will, in time," he said in answer to her unasked question.  
  
She looked up at him. "How do you that, always know what I'm thinking?"  
  
"I know a lot of what goes on here," he replied cryptically. "I suppose you could say I'm a kind of leader. When I got here, the first thing I did was start looking for a way out. I never found one, but that still hasn't stopped me from searching, and I've recruited others to do the same. I don't want to stay here forever, Prue. I believe that, once we all unite, we'll be strong enough to break free."  
  
"It's a nice dream," she mused. "Who knows, maybe it'll become more than that."  
  
"It's already started," he said, looking at her pleadingly. "Please, say you'll join me. I've already gotten most of the people here, but it's not enough. I'll need someone to reign beside me in order to win them all. I want that person to be you."  
  
Prue, realizing that he was entirely serious, got up quickly. "I'll have to think about it."  
  
He got up too, and followed her out into the garden. "Talk to me," he implored.  
  
She sighed, and turned to face him. "I just... This is all happening so fast, and I don't know what to do."  
  
"I understand," he said, "Really. I was once just as lost as you. Hell, half the time I still am. That's why I need you, Prue."  
  
She bit her lip, fighting back tears. "It's just all so confusing. I want to do what's right, but how do I know what that is?"  
  
He grabbed her, and in an instant she found herself engulfed in a deep, intense kiss. She felt everything he did - his bitterness at being trapped here, his determination to find a way out, and finally his passion for her. When they pulled away, she had no hesitation.  
  
"I'll do it." 


	4. Unholy Union

For a while afterwords, Prue and Darius were virtually inseperable. She still kept her own bedroom, but spent most nights in his, and went with him on his crusades, trying to win people over to help him in his fight to break free from that place. She soon learned just how much this fight consumed him, and his bitterness began to absorb her as well. She stopped wearing her usual flowing, peaceful dresses in exchange for more dramatic blacks and blood-reds. Even her eyes reflected the change in her, going from a clear, crystal blue to a darker, intense shade.  
  
One night, Prue was lying on Darius' bed when he came in, looking distracted.  
  
"What's wrong, baby?" she asked, getting up. She stood behind him, putting her arms around his shoulders, with the sleeves of her long black sweater flowing down across him.  
  
He turned around, reaching around her neck to play with the straps of her red halter top. "Nothing's wrong," he said. "We got a new arrival today, have you heard? A dark priestess. Would've gone to Hell, except that she died saving a mortal, in an accidental, roundabout sort of way. It wasn't enough to completely save her, so here she is."  
  
"Have you been able to recruit her to your cause?" Prue asked, running her fingers over his lips.  
  
"Actually, it didn't come up," he replied casually.  
  
She narrowed her eyes. Usually, this was the first thing on his mind.  
  
"Oh, don't look at me like that," he said, pulling away. He took a step back, and leaned on the desk. "I was just thinking, she could be useful. I never realized it, but we need a priestess to perform certain... ceremonies."  
  
"Such as?" Prue pressed, stepping toward him. She leaned against him; even in her five-inch heels, he toward over her.  
  
"Well, for instance," he started, pulling her closer, "She could marry us."  
  
She looked up at him, surprised. "You really want to?"  
  
He nodded. "Yes. I want us to be joined in a union so holy that no forces can break us apart. I want you to rule beside me as my queen, and when we're finally free of this damned place, I want you by my side. Will you be?"  
  
"Always," she replied. He started to kiss her, but they were interrupted by a knock on the door.  
  
Darius sighed. "Come in."  
  
It was Saria, along with another maid, Clarisse. "Sir, the priestess Gwendolyn is downstairs. She'd like to speak to you alone," said Saria in her quiet, slightly British intonation.  
  
"And miss, there's a package waiting for you in your bedroom," added Clarisse, in a voice even softer and more obviously accented than Saria.  
  
"Thank you," Prue and Darius said at the same time. The servants nodded curtly and left.  
  
"Well, I'll go make the arrangements, then," Darius excused himself.  
  
Prue watched him go, and then strode across the hall. There, on her bed, was a parcel covered in plain brown paper. She unwrapped it to find a stunning black garment. The top was stomach-bearing and see-through mesh, and the skirt was long and wrapped around her perfectly. As she was trying it on, Darius peeked in the door.  
  
She spun around for him. "Do you like it?"  
  
He nodded. "It's beautiful on you. I knew it would be."  
  
"You sent it to me?" she questioned. "But why just leave it here? Usually when you give me a present, you're actually the one to give it to me."  
  
Darius shrugged. "I thought it would be nice to surprise you for a change."  
  
She smiled. "You always surprise me."  
  
"Well, then, you wouldn't mind one more surprise, would you?" he asked, literally sweeping her off her feet. "Gwendolyn is still downstairs, and she's agreed to marry us right away. How would you like that, hmm? A private wedding out in the garden, just the two of us? Save for Gwendolyn, of course."  
  
Prue beamed. "Really? Right now?" Darius nodded, and carried her downstairs to the garden. The ceremony was performed under a full moon, and when it was finished, Prue felt an immedeate change in herself. The cold, not-quite-evil feeling she'd gotten the first time she'd kissed Darius came back full force, lodging itself deep enough in her heart to be nearly undetectable. Darius was now permanently a part of her. 


	5. A Deeper Connection

A year passed, or at least, Prue thought it was a year. In this place, time was irrelevant, and thereby difficult to measure. At any rate, it was enough time to make her forget her old life almost completely. The family and friends she'd once missed terribly now seemed of no consequence. The only person she ever thought of was Darius.  
  
One night, she came into his study, slipping in quietly and closing the door behind her, leaning against it. He was sitting at the desk, with his back to her, and made no sign of having heard her come in.  
  
"Isn't it late for you to be wandering around the castle?" he asked without moving.  
  
"Isn't it late for you to be down here working?" she countered, pouting. "It's cold upstairs, and I'm lonely."  
  
"So have Clarisse start a fire, and then ask her to stay until you fall asleep," he replied, still not looking up. "I have to finish this tonight, and you shouldn't be up this late, especially now that you're carrying my son."  
  
Prue froze, and instinctively reached behind her, grabbing the doorknob for support. "How did you know about the baby?" she asked, stunned. Until that moment, she hadn't even been completely sure she was pregnant.  
  
He finally turned to look at her, with an odd mixture of love and darkness in his eyes. He got up, and walked toward her. His arms encircled her waist, and he came close enough to feel her breathing. She was pressed between him and the door, and she let go of the doorknob to lean on him instead.  
  
"It's because you're part of me," he whispered in her ear. "We're connected, Prue, don't ever forget that. We're connected on a deeper level than man has ever known, and this baby will only bring us closer." He kissed her. "Are you excited?"  
  
She nodded. "Darius, this was the last thing I expected, but I can't think of anything I want more."  
  
He kissed her again, deeper this time. "Good. Now go on upstairs. You need your rest."  
  
She frowned. "Aren't you coming to bed?"  
  
He planted another kiss on her forehead, then shook his head. "I can't, sweetheart. I still have work to do. I'll send Clarisse up with you, okay? I want you asleep by the time I turn in, I mean it."  
  
Prue sighed. "All right. I love you."  
  
"I love you, too," he replied, before pulling her forward, opening the door, and gently shooing her out of it.  
  
Clarisse was already upstairs by the time Prue got there. She looked up from in front of the fire she'd been tending. "Master Darius says I'm to stay and sit with you for a while," she said meekly. Like most of the servants, Clarisse was afraid of Darius. He'd never been particularly unkind, but over the past year or so he'd changed, going from a rebellious, street-smart leader to a stiff, business-like ruler who made sure that the servants knew their station.  
  
"Thanks, Clarisse," Prue said warmly. Unlike her husband, Prue was known for being kind and respectful, although she too got testy whenever Darius was in an especially bad mood.  
  
She allowed Clarisse to tuck her in, but Prue was far too wound up to sleep. Restlessly, she played with the fringe on the edge of the blanket.  
  
"Is something wrong, miss?" Clarisse asked.  
  
Prue started to say something, but shook her head. "No. It's just... nothing, really. I'm probably overreacting."  
  
"I know about the baby," Clarisse said, changing the subject. "Master Darius told us. You must be so happy."  
  
"I am," Prue replied, smiling. She paused, then asked, "What else did my husband say to you?"  
  
Clarisse shrugged, trying to remember. "Oh, not much. You know how he is, how he doesn't like to speak with us. He just said that we're to be extra careful around you, is all."  
  
Prue nodded, biting her lip. It still bothered her that he knew about this before even she did. She tried to accept his explanation, but there was still some remnant of her old life as a good witch that was pulling at her, telling her this didn't feel right. She quickly pushed it out of her mind. After all, she reasoned, she wasn't a Charmed One anymore. She was Darius' wife, the mother of his son, and she needed to trust him, no matter what. Reminding herself of this, she managed to expel her unease by the time he came in.  
  
Clarisse got up and left as soon as she saw him enter the room, rushing past him with her head bowed. Darius ignored her, focusing solely on Prue. "You're still awake," he said, obviously displeased.  
  
"I couldn't sleep," she confessed. "I've just had so much to think about. You surprised me tonight, in your office."  
  
He sat down on the edge of the bed opposite from her, unbottoning his shirt. "You didn't think I would know? I've already explained to you how I did."  
  
She nodded. "I know. It's just that this is still so new to me. It just gets confusing sometimes."  
  
He paused before tossing his shirt onto the bedpost, and for a moment he became the man who'd rescued her the night she died. He lay down next to her, taking her into his arms. She automatically felt reassured, and leaned up against him, finally allaying her fears enough to fall asleep. 


	6. Birth of a Nation

Prue became more and more restless as Darius' son grew within her. She became short-tempered and impatient, and even her once warm, kind heart began to close until there was no trace of her former self left. She devoted herself entirely to her husband, following him when he allowed her to, and, when he was away, wandering the castle by herself.  
  
This is what she'd been doing one night, when Darius had locked himself in his study. After pacing restlessly around the corridors for several hours, she finally went into one of the smaller private libraries reserved for Prue's own use and no one else's. Clarisse and Saira had been starting a fire there on Darius' orders, and looked up when she came in.  
  
"Master Darius said you'd be in here, Miss," Saira said meekly. "Please, sit down. You know you shouldn't exert yourself."  
  
Prue's eyes flashed for a second, and Saira shuddered, afraid she was about to be reprimanded for speaking out of line, but Prue just sighed. "You're probably right. I should rest." She moved slowly over to the big velvet couch across the room, and kneeled on it, resting her arms on the window sill. Arranging herself as close as she could get to the window as she could, with her protruding stomach, heavy with the baby due to be born any day, pressed up against the back of the couch, she stared outside, watching the rain come down. It been storming non-stop for a long time, in various degrees of severity, with no signs of letting up. Oddly, the weather seemed to be directly related to Prue's mood at any given time. Most people chalked it up to coincidence, but the servants continued to talk...  
  
Prue herself was oblivious to any such connection. She just liked to sit and look at the raindrops collecting on the big stained-glass windows. It was comforting, almost familiar, although she had no idea what it could be reminding her of. Aside from the past few months, it had never rained here, not once since the night Darius had rescued her.  
  
She was suddenly pulled from her thoughts by a flash of light and a shooting pain. It took her a second to figure out that the flash had been coming from a lightning bolt - the first one to ever strike in this world. The source of pain, however, was unmistakeable. Prue was going into labor.  
  
"Get Darius," she said to Saira and Clarisse, who had been just about to leave the room when they'd heard Prue cry out. Saira ran off to find her master, while Clarisse knelt down beside her mistress.  
  
"Just breathe, Miss," Clarisse said softly, taking Prue's hand comfortingly.  
  
Prue whimpered. "It just started, why are the contractions already coming so fast?"  
  
Clarisse looked away, not wanting to admit that she didn't have an answer. This would be the first child born in this world, and so nobody could really know what to expect. Clarisse sighed, trying to mask her apprehension as Prue let out a sob. Whatever happened, tonight would change everything...  
  
The labor didn't take long. By the time Saira had located Darius and gotten him to the library, Prue was exhausted but smiling, holding a tiny baby boy in her arms.  
  
"Come see your son," she told him.  
  
He stepped further into the room, pulling a wing chair up beside the couch. "You're amazing," he told her. "And he is perfect."  
  
"I want to call him Alaric," she said. "After his father. It means 'noble ruler'."  
  
"Alaric," Darius repeated. "Noble ruler. I like it."  
  
"I think he does, too," Prue replied. The baby yawned, and waved two tiny fists in the air.  
  
Clarisse and Saira both lowered their heads and said a short blessing over baby Alaric. Darius looked up, noticing for the first time that they were still in the room.  
  
"Leave us," he ordered when they'd finished. They exited quickly, and Darius closed the door behind them. "There," he said, "It's just the three of us."  
  
Prue smiled, looking from her husband to her newborn son with a strange emotion in her eyes. It was a mix of pride, devotion, even caring - but not love. She was no longer capable of that. 


End file.
